


The Meaning of Flowers

by sartiebodyshots



Category: Falling Skies
Genre: AU, Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sartiebodyshots/pseuds/sartiebodyshots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom steals flowers to lay on Rebecca’s grave.  Cochise’s flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Flowers

            There’s a garden on the way to the cemetery that Tom likes to steal flowers from.  They’re some kind of exotic flowers, so Tom picks a couple when he goes to the cemetery alone.  No stealing in front of the boys.

            One day, he’s grabbing a handful of flowers when a gray hand grabs his wrist.  Tom looks up into an alien face.

            “You steal my flowers often,” the alien says.

            “Yeah,” Tom says because there’s no point in lying.

            “I have learned about human behavior.  You are courting someone,” he says.  “I wish to see this potential mate.”

            “What?” Tom asks, blindsided. 

            “You are sacrificing many Volm flowers to this potential mate.  I wish to ensure they are worthy of the Catarius,” the aliens says.

            The alien is already leading him back to the road and Tom doesn’t really have the energy to explain.  It’s easier to lead the alien along the familiar path.  They walk deeper and deeper into the woods in the cemetery.

            Tom doesn’t say anything until he falls to his knees in front of the grave.

            _Rebecca Mason: Beloved daughter, wife, and mother._

            “It’s a terrible inscription,” Tom says, voice wavering.  “Not like her at all.”  She was (and is) beloved, of course.  But god, Rebecca had been so much more than that. 

Rebecca had been fierce and in charge and always surprising, and she deserved to have more than some trite, overused phrase on her headstone.  They had never talked about what they wanted on their gravestones.  They had been much too young to contemplate dying.

            “I do not understand,” the alien says.

            Tom tugs him down beside him, and the alien listens.  “Humans also bring flowers to the graves of their loved ones.”

            “You have lost your mate,” the alien says.

            “Somebody broke into our house.  They stabbed her.  I found her lying in our kitchen, dead.  If I had just come home five minutes sooner, maybe-,” Tom says, face crumpling at the memory.  “I miss her so much.  I’m sorry for stealing your flowers; I just wanted to bring her something pretty, something she’d like.”

            There’s a tentative hand on his back.  “I am sorry.  You may have as many flowers as you wish; you can bring your offspring as well.  I have seen you walking with them sometimes.  I grow the flowers in memory of my brother, and he would support such a use.”

            “Your brother?” Tom asks.

            “He died when I was young, fighting very far from here,” the alien says.

            Tom wipes his face and turns to looks at the alien.  “Does it get easier?  The losing?”

            “I began focusing on the positive things I had gained from my relationship with him,” the alien says.  “I accepted the loss and made room for more.  I do not know if this will help a human deal with loss.”

            “It helps,” Tom says, nodding

            Without thinking, Tom wraps his arms around the alien and holds him close.  He buries his face in the crook of the alien’s neck and cries.  When the alien tentatively hugs him back, Tom gives a sigh so deep it rattles around in his soul.

            “I have noticed that humans are resilient, and I believe you and your boys will recover,” the alien says quietly. 

            “They miss her, too,” Tom says.  “And I’m not…” He’s not _enough_.  “I can’t do this by myself.”  God, it would have been better for them if Tom had stayed home that day and made Rebecca run the errands.  Rebecca would know what to do.  Rebecca would be better at this.

            “Humans are communal creatures by nature, and I do not believe that any of you could survive alone,” the alien says.  “You must bring your offspring by to pick flowers for their mother’s grave.  I insist.”

            “Thank you,” Tom says.  “I will.” 

            “Things will improve,” the alien says.  “The pain will cease to be immediate and overbearing.  Your offspring will heal.  You and them will be able to celebrate the memories you have of your mate.”

            Tom nods and grieves, an alien stranger supporting him. 


End file.
